Monster
by Soline
Summary: HG/SS Marriage Law. She never knew what a monster he was. Warning for language, smut, and dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Warning: This fanfiction is rated M for both language and smut. From the beginning. Don't like it, don't read it. Thanks.**

* * *

Snape was thinking about fucking. He was thinking about contorting this person upside-down in shackles and buggering his cock raw.

Snape's thin, albeit full, eyebrows twitched as he looked across the smooth tabletop at Remus Lupin.

He wondered if the werewolf had ever taken it in the butt before.

Not that Snape leaned toward cocks - rarely, really - but Remus was beginning to grate his already short nerves.

"This law is bloody outrageous," Lupin growled. Snape snickered - Lupin must be enraged, because that's about as far as his swearing reached.

"You've said that," Snape said and leaned back comfortably. If his throat was slick with brandy, he'd have his fingers laced behind his head by now. This was damn entertaining.

"Don't you sympathize at all with them?" Lupin said, glaring now at him.

"No," he responded lightly. "Do I look like a teenaged chit? No? Then…" Snape made a motion with his fingers like he was playing a small violin. At this, Lupin jumped from his seat and beat the table with his fists.

"Down, puppy," Snape grinned nastily.

"Enough," Kinglsey intervened tiredly. His massive fingertips rubbed his temples. Lupin sank down again, still trembling.

"I thought these idiocies were finished," Lupin said.

"Hardly idiocies," Kinglsey said. "Voldemort took more than half the Wizarding world with him when he died. There are so few now… We have no other choice. Besides perishing."

"Dramatic," Snape commented, but Kingsley ignored him.

"Now why did you want to talk to me?" the Minister said, his deep eyes setting on them.

"I," Snape began irritably, "was merely stopping by Grimmauld Place for a nightcap, as I left my best bottle here, when Lupin came in and refused to shut up."

"I just wanted to know what you thought-"

"But I… don't care," Snape smirked and looked over his shoulder. Where had he left that brandy?

"Alright then," Kingsley said. "Severus, feel free to leave. Remus?"

Snape pushed away from the table to search the cupboards

"This law puts the girls at risk," Lupin urged. "You've got to withdraw it. At least for some!"

Kingsley tapped his fingertip on the table. "You mean Miss Granger."

"_Yes_," Lupin exhaled, like the problem was solved.

"I cannot give Miss Granger special treatment, Remus. The Wizarding world is enraged already. Besides, doing so may put her at more risk. They would be vindictive."

"What about the Death Eaters who already want revenge for their Lord?" Lupin cried.

Behind him, Snape rolled his eyes. Lupin fucking whined like a dog, too.

"We will find someone to protect her. Someone who the Death Eaters fear," Kingsley said, still sounding unsure. He sounded like he could use Dumebledore's advice, but alas, that toad was dead.

"Ah, here she is," Snape announced, fisted the bottle, and threw a bit down his throat.

Both men at the table looked at him.

Kingsley rubbed his impressive chin. Thoughtful. Weighing.

Lupin tore his gaze back to the Minister. Frightened.

"No," Lupin said.

"Hm," Kingsley pondered, the noise of it rumbling in the room. Snape's black eyes peered over the bottle at them.

"You want _me_ to marry her?" he asked incredulously. He had been listening, of course.

"Of course not!" Lupin hissed. "I will marry her before you!"

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Remus," Kingsley sighed. "You're already married. Would Tonks like one more warming her bed?"

Lupin flushed and his eyes shifted away.

Snape wondered if he was thinking of his wife and Hermione - both naked, sweating, tangled together and joined at their slick quims.

"You are an excellent possibility," Kingsley said. "What do you think?"

This was why Snape liked Kingsley exponentially more than he had Dumbledore. Kinglsey gave him choices - an opinion - a chosen path. He took a seat again.

"You are right in saying I could protect her," Snape said. "Any freed Death Eaters avoid me now. The more dangerous are in Azkaban, and in case of an escape, I could protect Miss Granger from them, too."

"That is the highest benefit."

"Indeed. But then there is the matter of her choice."

"Once she sees her suitors," Kingsley said, "I do not think she'll object much."

Snape drummed his fingertips on the table, noticing his ears were beginning to feel a little warm. Lupin had gone ashen moments before and sat silent.

"I'll think on it," Snape said finally. "And once I've decided, I'll propose the idea to her myself."

"Settled," Kingsley said. "Come on, Remus. We'll let Severus take his drink in peace." And the large Minister took Lupin's arm and led the pale man outside. Must be close to full moon.

Snape swigged, swished, and swallowed.

Marry Hermione Granger.

The chit had a mouth that hinged in the middle, but he bet he could nail it shut. On both sides.

Of course, he may have to do it literally if she proved difficult.

No, the Marriage Law would have rules against physical abuse and would likely alert authorities if the contract was violated. But he could discipline her in many, many other aspects. He could have her spanked.

Flogged.

Waxed.

Sobbing.

Snape smiled against the bottle, feeling a small spark of disbelief that he was actually considering the marriage. But a larger part of him wanted something to own again. For a long time, he had owned power over the two greatest wizards in the world. He could have killed them, betrayed them at any point.

Now he longed for that power over someone once more, only this time he could abuse it to his liking.

He wondered how flexible Miss Granger was.

The door to the kitchen opened and a girl stumbled in, wincing in the sudden bright light. It was Miss Granger, who'd obviously been in bed until moments before. She was barely clad in her nightshirt and nearly blinded in the sudden light, but she shuffled in. She hadn't seen him.

Still shielding her eyes, she retrieved a jar of peanut butter and a spoon and sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter. From this angle, he could see her blue panties.

"Miss Granger." The brandy made his voice even sharper than usual.

"Professor!" she gasped - thickly due to the peanut butter spoon.

The girl jumped down to her feet and pushed the jar and spoon behind her. The Professor's eyes dropped to her bare, curled toes. Her feet were small. Dainty. Sort of perfect.

He had a small fetish for feet. Then again, Snape had a small fetish for most things.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't know you were here - I wouldn't have interrupted!" Miss Granger reeled.

Snape rubbed one white fingertip against the rim of the bottle. He considered her legs now. Nice. Shapely. Not sticks, but she needed to shave. There was stubble, and Snape didn't like his women to feel like men.

The more important bits of Miss Granger were covered by a ridiculously large t-shirt with a band named after insects on the front of it.

The Professor smiled at her.

"We are to be married, Miss Granger," he said, very slowly. He drew out every syllable to prolong her reaction.

She disappointed him.

"I thought as much," she said. "My suitors… are preposterous. Lethal Death Eaters, the lot of them." She crossed her arms and frowned at the floor. Even at this time, Miss Granger's mind was quick.

So. Miss Granger had already thought of him as an alternative. Interesting...

But Snape still wanted a reaction - a gasp - _something_.

So the Professor stood, bottle in hand, and crowded Miss Granger against the counter.

"Take a drink, witch," he murmured.

"What is it?" Miss Granger said.

"What's good for me is good for you," Snape said. "Or are you afraid you can't take it?"

Miss Granger wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle and swallowed. Snape enjoyed the way her pink lips stretched around it, and the noise of her swallow.

She choked, covered her mouth, and shoved the bottle back at him.

"V-Vile," she sputtered. Snape chuckled.

"Are you going to marry me, Miss Granger?" he pressed.

Miss Granger wiped her hand across her mouth and inhaled.

"I believe that's what I decided, Professor," she said.

He would not warn her. He wouldn't tell her what he expected, what he liked, what he demanded. The witch would discover for herself, and she could not go back.

He would be her Master.

* * *

**Hello all! I realized I've somewhat disappeared for a while, but my muse seems to have gone off to Fiji or somewhere so equally amazing that she hasn't come back yet. She did write me a letter today though, with this idea in the PS. Hopefully, I'll continue to grow some ideas for this story or any other story.**

**So I've turned to being a beta for a wonderful authoress named HermioneJeanSnape on AFF . Net . Her story's named "Bad Romance." You should check it out. ^_^**

**Let me know if you like it! I though I'd try my hand at something a little darker. Review please!**

**Love!**

**Soline**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. **

**Well, here we go with another installment to this fic. I admit that the chapters may come up slow, but I'd still appreciate your feedback! Maybe it'll spur some ideas for me... ;)**

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Snape intended to be thorough in his preparations. He was a man of system and calculations, after all. He saw no reason to change his methods when it came to Miss Granger.

First, he set about brewing several potions and stocking them in his personal storeroom. Contraception, pain, muscle relaxant, and lust potions crowded the shelf he dubbed Miss Granger's Shelf. Snape tapped his fingertip lightly against his cheek, staring at the shelf, before turning and lifting a glass box off a higher ledge. Inside the box, small wings no longer than his index finger flittered around. They were translucent and beautiful. Snape added the Harpy Wings to the shelf.

Second, Snape visited Knockturn Alley's notorious sex shop, The Stiffer Niffler. The owner greeted him shortly and returned to his bills, which was how Snape liked his encounters. Especially in a sex shop. He regarded each toy carefully, scrutinizing its pain and pleasure infliction. Miss Granger was a prude, he was sure. He'd start her off with the easy whips and ropes.

"Deliver them directly into my rooms," Snape told the owner. "I don't want to repeat the last delivery."

The owner paled as he remembered the stupid delivery boy Levitating Mister Snape's sexual goods through the halls of Hogwarts on a busy Monday.

"Y-Yes, sir. I'll do it myself, sir."

Third, Snape visited Lucius Malfoy.

"The word in the Ministry is you and Miss Granger are to wed," Lucius said, rubbing a blonde lock between his fingers. The blonde aristocrat leaned against the tall arm of the chair and studied Snape like he was a fine piece of art.

Snape scowled in return. The man had no right to cock his head at him, that arrogant cockhole. The only reason Lucius had avoided Azkaban at all was his money and, very suspiciously, one infamous late night visit to Judge Phil Jerkins.

"Yes," Snape only said.

"Alternative motives?"

"They are the reason for my visit," Snape said, leaning his elbows onto his knees now. His eyes peered through eyelashes at the blonde. Lucius' smile beckoned him to continue. "She needs a Master, Lucius."

Lucius' eyebrows rose elegantly. Other than that, his surprise was untraceable.

Snape continued, his coal eyes dropping to his joined fists.

"I want nothing more than to… to bend her body, manipulate and feed it. I want to deprive and hurt her. Drive her to the edge and pull her back, but I want her to _want_ to fall over that edge. I want… obedience… and…" Snape suddenly found himself at a loss. He wanted something else from Miss Granger, but he couldn't place it.

"There are two sorts of Masters, Severus," Lucius said quietly, working his voice into Snape's thoughts. "You cannot be both."

"I know," he replied.

"Then you are here for advice?"

Snape shot Lucius a twisted glare, but he wouldn't say that's what he wanted. _Advice. _Lucius waved a lazy hand.

"Stubborn," Lucius muttered and then dropped his hand again to a blonde curly head.

There was a naked girl sitting on the floor beside Lucius that neither man had acknowledged until now. She sat on her knees and heels, her hands on her thighs. The girl's expression was shaking - a vision of quivering, silent fear.

Snape regarded her with little feeling.

"She doesn't look broken," Snape said shortly. Lucius chuckled.

"Slaves should never be broken, my friend," he said. "Never…"

Lucius' tanned hand smoothed the girl's hair. She purred like a heated cat under him.

Would Miss Granger do that?

Would a simple pet from him set her squirming and purring - crawling beneath him?

"My pet-" the girl smiled "-has been with me for several months. After Narcissa discovered the last one and… disposed of her… I've kept Helen in decidedly better care."

Snape noticed that the girl did not smile at her name as she did at "pet." He noted it.

"You may watch and observe, Severus. You may even pleasure yourself to her," Lucius said. His voice grew steadily harder as he spoke, and his stroking hand suddenly twisted in the girl's hair. "But do not speak."

She stifled a cry as Lucius stood and jerked her upwards by the hair.

Snape admired her form - she was large-breasted with a small waist. Her proportions looked too perfect, and Snape wondered if Lucius had performed some glamour on her.

Too perfect. Snape appreciated a raw human form.

"Do not whimper!" Lucius hissed at her. She still remained on her knees, tugged forward by the hair. Lucius pressed his boot between her breasts. "Perhaps your whining tongue needs some distraction. Lick it, bitch."

The girl slathered the toe of his boot hungrily, like it was coated in cherry fucking ice cream. Snape barely believed the desperation, but it was there.

"_Enough_," Lucius snarled with a thick annoyance. The girl flinched. "You dirty your mouth with the shit on my boot… you pathetic slut."

He kicked her, and she sprawled onto her back. Lucius walked away, his arms crossed and brows furrowed. Snape wasn't sure if he was acting or not.

The girl crawled after him, sobbing now but biting back any noise. Snape agreed - it was a rather pathetic display of neediness. Lucius glanced at her.

"Speak, if you must."

First, she assumed the slave position she began in.

"Master," she said. Her voice was strong, but broken. "I am. I am a pathetic slut, but you are my maker. Outside, I'm self-supplying, assertive… president of a company… You'd be proud… But here with you, Master. I am undone."

Lucius shot Snape a smug smirk.

Always a bastard.

"All fours on the table, pet," he said lowly.

That girl, president of a company, scrambled to the coffee table and bent over on it. She was only feet away from Snape, but she didn't even glance at him. She was panting and arching.

Snape felt a hum in his groin. Her body writhed, her arse rolling and skin covered in a sheen.

Lucius tugged the belt out of his trousers and looped it in his hand.

She wasn't warned. He drew his arm back and winged the belt forward on her buttocks before she could stiffen.

"Ohhhhh! _Fuck!_" she shrieked. Her face dropped hard onto the table. But he doesn't relent or soften his blows. _Smack, scream smack, scream._ They continued like this for nearly twenty minutes.

"Severus," Lucius called. His hair has dampened and his white sleeves rolled to his elbows. The aristocrat's forearms glistened with sweat.

Snape grunted, annoyed at the distraction. He'd freed his pulsing cock moments before and was working to relieve it. Snape squeezed his thick cock, feeling the heat thrumming in his palm.

"This… is one sort of master," Lucius hissed. He had the eyes of a madman while he beat the moaning girl. "This is the sort I prefer. It is the most powerful… most controlling… Slut, what are you?"

"I am your slut!"

_Smack._

"Wrong! What are you?" Lucius snarled.

"I am - I am pathetic! And needy and disgusting and… and ugly!"

"And _who_ makes you beautiful, witch?"

"My Master!"

Lucius met Snape's eyes and grinned predatorily - and threw his entire body into hitting the girl once more.

Then he dropped the blood-specked belt on the floor and flexed his hand. The girl wept into the table, burying her face into her hands.

"Pet…" Lucius murmured and stroked her spine. "Would you like me to make it better? Will you be a good girl, hm?"

"Please, Master…"

Lucius walked to her front, leaned over, and lifted her chin. Then he tilted his face at Snape.

"And then there's this sort of Master, Severus," he said lowly. "Which I will demonstrate just once…" He turned his head back and brushed her lips with his. "Doesn't that make you a lucky girl?"

Lucius' kissing seemed to make her whine more than his beatings. She shifted on her knees and cried and moaned while Lucius assaulted her mouth. Her entire body began quivering when Lucius reached under to cup and play with her breasts. "Master… Master…" she kept sobbing.

Snape was captivated. This… this was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It was not her red and bloodied behind, or Lucius' vicious use of her.

It was the quivering, wet, desperate mess she'd turned into.

_That's _what he wanted his pet to look like.

Snape hissed through his teeth when he imagined Miss Granger on that coffee table instead. His cock twitched violently and Snape exploded onto his robes.

"Can I come, Master?" the girl whispered.

"Yesss." Lucius stood, trailed his fingers over her back and down her arse - she hissed - until he touched her dripping core. Snape could see the puddle between her legs and the extra sheen on her thighs.

Lucius only touched - just grazed - her clitoris. The girl bucked wildly, fell flat on the table and quaked in her orgasm. All the while, Lucius cupped her wetness, letting her juices trickle between his fingers.

Snape Scourgified himself and tucked his cock away again. Lucius was gazing hotly down at the girl, who still quivered. Snape decided it was best to leave, before Lucius began whipping out things that he had no intent to watch.

Once back in his dungeons, Snape dropped a log in the fireplace and stared into it, a tumbler of brandy in his fingers.

He knew now what he wanted to be to Miss Granger. He wanted to hurt her, yes, but he didn't exactly want to cause her bloody pain. He wanted to teach her the pleasure that lies past the pain.

His eyes shifted to his own coffee table - pictured her young body collapsed onto it, shaking and sweating and dripping. Her body would be perfect and unmarred. Lucius' pet was scarred and burned by her Master's work. Snape didn't want that.

And although Lucius' beatings and the bloody belt had not turned Snape's stomach one bit - in fact, he had returned and eaten a hearty meal of pasta even - something else had.

The girl had called herself disgusting. _Ugly._

Snape scowled at the fire.

He knew very well what _disgusting_ and _ugly_ felt like. Of course Lucius felt no conscious toward that - he'd been fucking beautiful his entire life.

That pansy-assed old man.

Snape hurled his sloshing tumbler into the hearth and watched the fire leap up giddily. Picturing Hermione Granger dejected and self-destructive over her looks aggravated him.

He wouldn't have her that way.

His eyes slid to the full-length, ornate mirror in the corner. It was a Slytherin antique - the only reason he had kept it - but it would work.

Snape crossed his arms and smiled in anticipation of her arrival.

* * *

Next chapter: Hermione arrives and it does not go... smoothly. *wink* Snape can be quite devious.

Review, please and thanks!

Soline


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Snape arrived at the Ministry's Marriage Department promptly at ten o'clock for their appointment.

Turns out, Miss Granger had arrived one hour early. Always the pleaser.

"Hello, sir!" she said and popped to her feet. She'd been sitting cross-legged on the wooden bench, a book splayed on her lap.

Any trace of confidence that Miss Granger had that night in Grimmauld kitchen fled her. Her cheeks flushed pink and her hands shook until she gripped the book so hard her fingers whitened. Snape thought she may faint.

"Miss Granger, are you sick?"

If she was about to vomit, Snape wanted to keep his boots clean.

"No, of course not," she breathed - the first exhale in several seconds.

With that, she turned on her heel and entered the adjacent office. Snape, smirking, followed after her and he watched the way her bottom rolled under her robes.

"Mister Severus Snape and Miss Hermione Granger, you have been summoned to complete the marriage contract under the law of the Ministry of Magic…" The official, a rather fat and sweaty man, droned on. It seemed Miss Granger was having trouble paying attention. Snape glanced sideways several times, only to find the witch snapping her gaze back to the official.

He chuckled, a warm throaty rumble, and Miss Granger stared at him openly. Her eyes a little round and bright. What was she thinking?

"Ahem…" The official coughed and rolled his eyes. "Shall I continue?"

"_Yes_, you impertinent lard-arsed swine!" Snape hissed at him. "And this time, remember that you're speaking to two war heroes, or I'll lay your innards across the desk!"

"Y-y-yes, s-sir!"

"Don't st-st-stutter at me, fool! _Continue_!"

Snape relaxed his expression and looked at Miss Granger again. Her eyes were wider now. Was it in fear?

Dammit, that's not what he wanted. She should know that he'd no intention to treat her like he treated some idiotic, ill-mannered stranger.

"The terms of the contract are basic and forthwith: The marriage contract must be signed by both parties, in their married names. This marriage cannot be divorced or renegotiated until a child is conceived. After conceiving, the marriage may be ended by either party. The husband and wife must consummate at least once a week, save the span of her menses. Do you have any questions?"

"No," said Miss Granger. "I've read that contract several times." Her stronger voice had returned. Snape shook his head.

"Alright then," said the official and retrieved a quill from his desk. "Now, you are entitled to a proper ceremony, if you are interested. We have a room prepared if you'd like to do it now, even. There are white owls and streamers and cupid with golden harps, and the cake - oh, the cake…"

The swine stared at Snape and spoke with such enthusiasm that his jowls quivered, like he was offering Snape some sort of amazing treat. Did he expect Snape to hop around and squeal like a virgin chit?

"No," Miss Granger said loudly. Both men looked at her. "Definitely not!"

"I agree - that sounds ludicrous," said Snape.

"Absolutely," Miss Granger added.

"Worse than a cell in Azkaban with twenty sex-starved giants."

"Plus Greyback's mangy arse…" she muttered.

"Indeed?" Snape drawled. What had spurred her hatred of Greyback?

"That's fine!" the officiate said and spread his sausage fingers in the air. "You can just sign the paper and be on your way then. Severus Snape here and Hermione Sn-"

"I'm keeping my name," she said.

"Are you?" Snape retorted. He wanted to own the girl, not pretend to own her.

"You could always change _your_ name," she said. Her bright eyes challenged him.

"Certainly not, witch," he scowled. She lifted her chin at him and smiled.

"Then we are agreed."

That fucking minx.

Snape signed his name next to hers angrily.

"Now if you have any more questions-" said the officiate. Snape cut across him.

"We'll know to use someone else. Let's go Missus… _Granger_."

* * *

The girl looked delicious with a gag in her mouth. She wasn't, of course, as docile as he'd like at the moment, but _honestly_.

Granger had barely stopped talking since they left the Ministry's office. It had been three days since then.

She'd gone on and on about using his lab and his library and his blah, blah, blah. Then, only to push Snape over his edge, she followed him into his personal and very delicate lab. When she mentioned her new classes and the study techniques she intended to implicate, Snape immediately charmed a ball gag into her mouth.

"_Fraghu__!_"

"You aren't making any sense, witch."

Her hands pulled at the gag but it was no use - only the Professor could remove it. Then, quite unexpectedly, she morphed into a metaphorical hellcat. Her hands darted from the gag to his throat.

"No, no," Snape tutted. He grabbed her arms and twisted them forcefully behind her back so she face away from him.

"Now," he breathed. "I know you have pictured a somewhat agreeable marriage. Perhaps us working side-by-side in the labs. Discussing difficult magical theories. Being… _partners_, by and by. But you should know this…"

Still gripping her wrist (painfully, he was sure), his other hand wandered to her front. Saliva had begun dripping down her chin from around the gag, and she blushed in embarrassment. His long fingers traced her hip bone.

"I am just as much a Death Eater as your other suitors. You chose me because I'm… safe. And I assure you, I can be. I will protect you, girl," Snape said. His fingers slid onto her lower belly. "But I can also hurt you. I can rip your clothes off, chain you to the ceiling and let you hang for days. Witch, I can make you eat off the floor like a dog. And I'd enjoy it."

The girl now shook in his hands. Tears joined the saliva on her chin.

Snape gently released the ball gag and it disappeared as it fell from her mouth. He carefully turned her about so she faced him.

"But I'm a quiet man, Granger."

"Hermione," she whispered. Her eyes were fixed on his chest. "You're angry because I kept my name. If you keep calling me Granger, it will remind you…"

"Fair enough," he said after a pause. "As I said, I'm a quiet man, and I like quiet evenings and quiet labs. Can you respect that?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Hermione."

Her cheeks flushed. She looked good with a pink face. If he pressed his fingers to her cheeks, would they be hot? He was tempted to find out…

"But don't ever gag me again, you jerk!" Her wand snapped from her robes.

And Snape flew off his feet, out of his shoes, and into the nearest table.

"Bloody witch! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Snape tried to sort himself out of the wreckage of the table. Hermione had already fled the room and was probably running into a hiding spot.

At least, she'd better hope she was.

"I'm going to Avada your little arse!"

Alright, perhaps that wasn't the most reasonable thing to yell at your new wife.

The Professor strode from the lab in his socked feet, his black hair and robes whipping behind him and his eyes like a falcon's. Hermione had one foot out the door when he ran close in three strides and hauled her back by her waist.

"No!" she shrieked. Her arms and legs flailed wildly.

Dammit, she fought like a hellcat. Her nails seared into the flesh of his forearms and Snape found himself smirking at her wildness.

He loved it.

"If you Avada me, everyone will know! Then they'll throw you in Azkaban, where the women are few and the guards are lonely," she hissed. "And you've got two holes to accommodate, Snape."

Snape laughed, still clutching her against his shaking chest.

"You've got a filthy mouth, witch," he chuckled. "One would never assume it."

She'd stopped fighting so hard at his laughter. Her curly head turned toward him.

"You aren't going to Avada me?"

"Of course not, you idiot." Her arms and legs relaxed, her hands falling to the arms about her.

Snape wondered if he should still be angry at her hex. No one fucked about with him like that. Ever. If she were to learn her place, she should be no exception.

But then, he also loved the fire. He'd even love to fight occasionally - would she react the same way to being hogtied suddenly? Before he could consider it much longer, she interrupted him.

"Then let's make a deal," she said. "You don't hex me and I won't hex you."

"Fine." He lied. He never made deals with women.

They stood in silence for several minutes. Hermione's small hands were acquainting themselves with his forearms, running her fingertips over the scratches she'd left and pushing the sinewy muscles. Snape's eyes narrowed lazily at her ministrations - it'd been very long since young hands explored him.

Sweet Circe, her hair smelled delicious under his large nose. Was that vanilla? Or cinnamon? He breathed in. Definitely cinnamon.

"I don't want to wait until the very end of the week," she said quietly. "To… to have sex. I don't want it to be rushed and uncomfortable."

"Naturally," he murmured, alert again. Her fingers, shaking now, explored his hands, turning them over and spreading his fingers with her own.

"So… will we? Soon?"

"No," Snape said. Her shoulders tightened as he stepped around to face her. "How much experience do you have, Hermione?"

"I have some. A little. I never had many chances for experience… boys didn't usually see me that way."

_There. _There it was - the sign Snape had been looking for. The pained eyes and wrinkled brow that showed her opinion of her sexuality and herself.

Fuck, he hated it.

He remembered his teenaged self, looking in the mirror, cursing his big nose and yellow teeth and crying so hard he'd vomit. Does Hermione do that?

No witch of his would.

"I have to admit something," he said. Hermione raised her head. "I'm a very sexual wizard. I enjoy things your brilliant mind hasn't even wrapped around. I'm going to enjoy bending and bouncing and fucking your body."

Her irises grew, her eyes darkened, and she bit that pretty pink lower lip.

"You're going to love it," he whispered.

She released a shuddering breath.

"Although, I think we need to work up to it," he continued. "At least until you are comfortable."

"It will take longer than four days to make me comfortable with you…" she muttered.

"I mean comfortable with yourself."

Her eyes drifted up at that. He studied her plainly - she looked… _hopeful_. Perfect.

"Are you willing to let me help, Hermione?"

"Yes."

"You must do everything I say. Everything."

"…I can."

"Good girl," he said. He'd been walking away but glanced over his shoulder when he praised her - _Good girl._ - and saw her hand flutter to her belly. Hm, she liked that.

Snape beckoned her to the full-length mirror and said, "Remove your clothes." Her expression changed completely around and went from dazed to stricken fear in an instant.

"I won't do that!"

"You said-"

"I won't do things I'm not comfortable with!"

Snape glared at her pointedly and snapped, "That's the _point_, witch!"

Really, the chit still grated him sometimes. Gryffindors were so bloody self-righteous and stubborn! They were all the same - the whole lot of them - all sniveling, weak ingrates-

"Fine," she mumbled. She wouldn't step in front of the mirror to undress, however, but she did bend to undo her trainers. After that, the socks. Then a deep breath, a swallow, and her shirt landed on the floor beside her pants.

The Professor wet his lips but made no other movement. She was humiliated. A flush had spread through her entire body, under her red cotton panties and bra, so that she looked red all over.

"Everything, Hermione," he said softly. If he didn't speak softly, she may spook and quit.

She turned away from him, slid her bra down her arms, and tried to shimmy out of her panties without bending over too far. Snape shoved his hands in his pockets, his cock aching to be touched by anything, even his own fingertips.

His mouth watered like a succulent feast was before him.

And the girl was succulent - she had the most perfect, roundest, jiggling arse he'd ever seen. He nearly moaned aloud when she looked backwards at him and brought a sexy curve to her spine.

"Come here," he said huskily.

When Hermione reached the mirror, her face was flaming.

"Face the mirror and look at yourself," he commanded. She turned slowly, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Gryffindor bravery, indeed. Sometimes tales were true.

Snape wanted badly to look at her form, to take and drink and consume every sight of her. But now he concentrated on her face and emotions, for this could go badly if he did not. This could break his pet, and he wouldn't let that happen.

He moved close behind her, so she could see them both, his pale face looming over her shoulder and meeting her eyes.

"Aren't you going to touch me?" she said weakly.

"No." He bent his mouth to her ear and brushed her hair with a lusty voice. "_Look_ at yourself, witch."

Hermione's amber eyes, filled with trepidation, finally fell to her reflection.

* * *

Alright, so this chapter came pretty easily! Whew. Hopefully the next one does, too. I've got the beginning of it thought out.

So what do you think of the Professor's technique so far? He's not going to jump straight into being Master, I think. She's a little strong-willed for that so quickly.

Review please and thanks for reading!

Soline


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